Tag: What’s Your Blues Name?

You’ve all seen ’em before: The “What’s Your (fill-in-the-blank) Name” games that make their rounds on Facebook and throughout the vast social media-sphere (media-verse? media-laxy?).

And really, they’re annoying.

If by “annoying” I mean “addictive.”

For example, one of my favorites is the “What’s Your Porn Star Name” game. Which, oddly enough, has the same rules as the “What’s Your Drag Queen Name” game. And as you’ll soon see, the latter definitely works way better for my particular moniker.

Anyhow, the rules: In order to figure out your porn star name, you take the name of your first pet as your first name, and then the name of the first street you lived on as a child as your last name.

Wilbur was my first pet (no, not as in “Some Pig.” He was a parakeet. Don’t ask.).

Southhampton was my first street.

Hence: Wilbur Southhampton.

Who wouldn’t want to see the money shot with Wilbur Southhampton? (See, told ya it was a better Drag Queen name.)

Or if you prefer the smoky sophistication of jazz-casual to “Alexis Texas is Buttwoman” (seriously people…that’s a real porn movie — I hope you all appreciate the lengths I go to to research these posts for you), there’s the one circling Facebook today, which is the “What’s Your Blues Name” game. Here’s the chart:

So considering there’s a name game for just about everything — a “What’s Your Smurf Name,” “What’s Your Star Wars Name,” even a “What’s Your Paula Deen Food Name” (yeah, I may have made that one up…but every one of them would be some combination of “bacon,” “mayonnaise,” “butter” and “deep-fried dough”) — I had an idea.

I thought to myself, “Self…” (I knew you’d want the play-by-play of this particular conversation), “…what would your divorce name be?”

(Yes. I talk to myself in the second person. So what?)

A divorce name. It has huge connotations, considering many of us go through an identity crisis of sorts, post-divorce. So who would you be if you could name yourself in those days/months/years post-divorce? The identity would need to embody the destruction, the opportunity to start anew and the “fuck the douchebag” mentality that happens in those bat-shit crazy precarious days.

It would have to be one part loose cannon. One part optimistically empowered. One part thank-all-that-is-holy-that-the-douche-is-gone.

Sounds just about right.

And hey: Everyone can play, even if you haven’t been divorced (yet?). And believe you-me, I hope you haven’t been.

OK, so here are the rules. For your first name, you must take the first initial of your ex’s first name. Because this is the crazy part. And don’t worry, any ol’ ex will do:

A = Crazyass

J = Bitter

S = Wildcard

B = Cranky

K = Jilted

T = Chaos

C = Seething

L = Blindside

U = Ragin’

D = Jaded

M = Ugh

V = Fuckity

E = Blazin’

N = Wonky

W = Crabby

F = Blackout

O = Fiery

X = Buzzin’

G = Emo

P = Facepalm

Y = Hotmess

H = Shawn

Q = Screamin’

Z = Shocky

I = Rut-ro

R = Breathless

Now the middle name — the empowered part. Take the first letter of your first name:

A or B: Legend

K or L: Mojo

S or T: Fearless

C or D: “Chuck Norris”

M or N: “The Rock”

U or V: Da-Shizzle

E or F: Badass

O or P: Coolio

W or X: FREEDOM!

G or H = McSexy

Q or R = Wine-me

Y or Z = “The Shit”

I or J = Smokin’

…and finally, your last name comes from the month of your anniversary (or, if you’re not married, the month you met the aforementioned asshole ex):

January: McMovingonigan

February: VanWinnington

March: O’Freefromtheidiot

April: LeLoserishistory

May: Bitemeassholington

June: O’Overyou

July: McYayme

August: Fitzfuckyoudumbass

September: MacMyexisadingleberry

October: Dingdongtheassholeisgoneington

November: Nolongerstuckerman

December: McMofoless

Optional note: If you are of Latin heritage, feel free to add “El” or “La” before the first name; or if you’d like to pay homage to your Native American heritage, add “Stabs with a Pokey Spear” (or any combination of aggressive verb+preposition+object of the preposition that will mortally wound) to the name wherever you so desire.

So there you have it. Using “John” as the fictional first name of my ex, and August as the very real month in which we were married, here’s my divorce name: